


From Above

by Red (Red_Balloons)



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Child Neglect, Pre-Canon, hints of homophobia, hints of mental disorders in a child, talk of being dead, talk of death, talk of environmental issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Balloons/pseuds/Red
Summary: "If (my mom) wanted me to play music again, why wouldn't she just tell me herself?""Maybe she can't! Maybe she has to do it another way. You know, through signs!"
Comments: 21
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is legit just what my brain keeps coming up with when thinking about and seeing people talk of why the boys came back, why Julie can see them, and why we keep seeing connections to Julie's mom (Rose) and the boys.
> 
> I never use names throughout most of this but that’s a narrative choice. I know it’ll be weird but until I use names, there is literally only one character to reference and most people don’t use their own names when they’re thinking to themselves.

This wasn’t like she’d imagined.

Almost immediately after she had died, she’d found herself standing before a map with two halls on either side of her. The colors of everything around her was washed out compared to what she remembered seeing colors had been like while alive. There were greens and blues and browns scattered about, with the map being the only thing that was a simple black on white scheme.

With an unneeded deep breath, she took the few steps between her and the map to get a better look at it. Like an outlet mall, it showed her where she was with a large arrow and the capslocked words “YOU ARE HERE”, so she traced her eyes first left then right to see what else she could find. In the left hall, terms like “Death” and “Records” were read. And in the other direction, there was only one thing - “Afterlife”. It was straightforward, almost: Go right, and she moves onto the next life. Go left, and... Well, going left seemed like it would give her answers or details that most humans wouldn’t get.

But there was nothing to tell her what _death_ meant, and why it was different than _afterlife_ outside of the general definitions. Because what if they meant something different after you stopped living? So she didn’t know what direction she should walk.

With a soft sigh, she stepped back and looked between her two options.

There was nothing to visually differentiate them from one another. The floor was a consistent, faded brown, and the walls were the same washed-out blue. And the wall trimmings were the same worn green. Had she not taken a look at the map first, she would have thought left had meant going back and right meant continuing forward onto the next adventure - and for all she knows, that’s really what it meant - but when she’d come to, the map had been what she’d been facing. Which made her think this was more of a test than a visualization of moving on.

Eventually, she decided to go for the one thing on the map that hadn’t confused her - the section on the left that held records. There were only two things that could be there, musical record or a history of _whatever_ this hall was for. With her decision made, she nodded to herself and spun on her heels to begin the long walk left.

* * *

Hours passed.

Minutes, seconds, like a fractured image. Time folded in on itself, stretching and collapsing in turns.

She came across her first door and stopped walking. There had been no indicator on the map that had shown other doorways; both the places marked “Death” and “Records” had been at the end of the hall and from where she stood, she still had a ways to go before she reached the end. So what was this door here for? It was unmarked and seemed to glow in the faded atmosphere of the hallway.

The door itself was smaller than the average house doorway, probably just a few inches away from brushing her curls. And when she stepped forward to brush a hand over the wood - it was bright like beech or maple wood tended to be - she found the air around it was... dry. Dry and heated like that one time she’d left one of her leather jackets out in her car over a long weekend heatwave and found it cracked and damaged beyond repair. She pulled away and frowned.

That door felt like a memory, but not a particularly good one.

She doesn’t know how long she’d been walking and the first thing she’d come upon after leaving the map behind felt wrong somehow. A temptation, a distraction, from something important.

With a shake of her head, she turned to continue her way down the hall. As curious as she was about what was around her, she felt like this was a test. Like she had been given an opportunity to do something if she just _stuck with her decision_ , and getting distracted by every little thing would drag on just long enough for her to lose the opening offered to her. And she _wasn’t_ going to miss out on anything else - dying when both of her children were still very much _children_ was probably her only lingering regret.

She can’t regret anything else.

So with a breath she didn’t need filling her lungs, she kept moving. But she found herself counting as more doors pop up - quickly she’s at 12... 13... 14... 20... some of them are made of the same glowingly light wood as that first door, the heat drifting from them getting stronger as each one was passed by, but there were others that seemed to be made of metals and stones that seemed to radiate their own lights. The longer she walked, the closer the doors seemed to be getting to one another, and the more the colors of the floor and walls seemed to shift. Gone was the washed-out colors, replaced by mottled greens and greys and purples.

Her chest felt compressed beneath the weight of her curiosity and constricted by the band of alarm bells tickling the back of her neck. Something wasn’t right about any of these doorways. But the further she went, there was a steady tug at the base of her skull, a call for attention that kept her focused on making it to the records room.

Maybe she’ll find answers to the growing questions piling up in the back of her head about these doors. Or maybe she’ll find she made the wrong choice, going left.

* * *

The end of the hall is back to normal - no sign of warped colors or oppressive forces trying to drag her closer to doorways she had no interest in. She breathed out in relief. The heat at her back pushed her forward to the last two doors. They sat on either side of the hall - the one of the left read “Death” in curving letters and the one of the right read “Records” in sharp, easy to read ones.

She contemplated the doorway that was titled death before shaking her head. Temptation, curiosity, will have to wait. That’s what the last however long had made her realize, if it had actually been a test. So she determinedly walked towards the right door and opened it with a hitch of breath being the only thing to betray her nerves.

Then the air seemed to rush out of her all at once.

Right in front of her was her studio. It looked like she had last left it, even the items up in the loft that wasn’t hers that she had kept despite the constant urging to sell them by everyone in her life. She could never do it though; they had belonged to some unique young men who had been taken from the world before they could make their mark upon it. And they would have, of that she held no doubt.

When she was done looking over the space around her, reminiscing over every memory made within it with her family, she returned her gaze out the doorway. Why had it led here? There was nothing here that could be called a record of any sort that she hadn’t already heard. But apparently it was important enough to put on a map and placed down an impossibly long hallway.

She sighed and decided that, since she was here, she might as well have a bit of fun. Turning back around with a sharp twist, she carefully settled at the grand piano, a soft smile forming as she remembered the last time she had managed to be here. She and her daughter had been happily writing a song together, unaware of what was coming for either of them. As she remembered the bright way Julie had worked through the lyrics, Rose began to tap out a melody she had carefully written for her daughter. It was full of hope and love, for her daughter and her future without Rose there to see her through any of it.

“That was beautifully done.”

Rose jerked in surprise, the piano creating a clash of notes as her hands pressed on them without any of the previous grace, and blinked up at the person standing in the doorway. They were thin but short - much shorter than Rose, at the very least - and was wearing a simple outfit of jeans and a graphic-tee, whose writing was in a language Rose didn’t know. Their hair was short, barely brushing the tips of their ears, and such a deep black it hurt to stare at for too long. Their eyes were wide, much wider than they should have been for a human (but what about this situation said this being was  _ human _ , a quiet part of herself whispered), the color of them much like the faded blue of the walls outside.

They were also smiling at her, a polite, apologetic sort of expression that lessened the intensity of their presence. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you, but in this sort of situation, I wouldn’t have been able to not scare you, huh?”

Rose pressed her lips together and considered the idly moving stranger as they took in the image of her old studio. They moved slowly, taking their time to complete each shift as if they had nothing to worry about if they took too long. It was… It was interesting for Rose to watch. Like a movie set to a rather slow speed but it managed to somehow  _ work _ at that reduced speed.

Eventually those blue eyes made their way back to her and the smile was wider. “Not very many who find themselves in the Hall make it to this end. Congratulations on that,” they softly told her, steps slowing to a stop on the other side of the piano to where Rose sat. “Now, you wanted to see this room, yes?”

Rose’s throat had closed at the question, a fear of speaking that had never found itself in her head popped up with an ugly insistence. She nodded her head when it became obvious her mouth wouldn’t work.

The stranger gave her an empty smile as they nodded back, gaze sliding off of her once more to consider the piano between them. “Can you explain why?”

Like a cough, her voice worked, “Curious.”

They hummed, as if amused by the answer. “Ah, yes, curiosity! Such a wonderful part of humanity, wouldn’t you say? Though,” their tone shifted into something thoughtful, but unlike the pleasant warmth from before, it was a dark sound, “it does tend to get you guys into trouble at times, doesn’t it?”

Her hands clasped together tightly as she waited.

“Ah, but this time it’s not the same, is it?” Their kind smile was back; Rose felt the heat of a fireplace and smelled melting chocolate and marshmallows. The strength of her grip on herself eased. “You wanted to get answers.”

“Yes,” slid out of her like a slippery soap between wet hands.

“Alright then!” They clapped and the scene around them shifted, losing the familiar sight of Rose’s studio to become that of an industrial library. Shelves upon shelves, all metal and large enough to reach upwards several stories, filled in the empty space around Rose and the stranger. “Now, what do you wish to know specifically, so I can get the necessary books for you.”

“There are two things,” Rose began once she realized the pressure upon her throat was gone, leaving it free to breathe out words. At the nod of understanding, she listed off, “Why the boys of Sunset Curve had to die and what my daughter’s life is supposed to look like now that I’m gone.”

The smile turned sharp and contemplative, like they had been pleased with her answer but also found it somewhat surprising. Rose kept her gaze upon the watery blue of the stranger’s, not daring to look away. The hallway had been a test, the studio had been another, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think that this impromptu staring contrast was another. And she wasn’t going to fail here. Not after coming so close to what she wanted.

“Both of those are tricky topics,” they began before taking a seat. Rose blinked before looking down at where she was sitting to find herself in a chair matching the one the other had sat in. “Your daughter’s future is… Well, it is meant to be an interesting one but no one can agree on what’s to be  _ done _ to make it interesting. And those boy’s?”

Rose’s heart clenched at the sight of the stranger’s face taking on a frown. They had been smiling the whole time they’d been actively within Rose’s frame of focus, so to see the change of expression was odd. Terrifying. She folded her hands back together upon her lap and squeezed.

“The three of them have been in the same place they had always been after they all died.”

“What?”

“That was my exact reaction when I found out, but there is nothing I can personally do to help them. They’ve not moved on - and cannot where they are - but as I said, I can’t help them. So they’ve been stuck there. Probably haven’t even been aware of time passing them, poor things.”

Rose considered the answers she’d been given before sucking in a sharp breath. Steeling her nerves, she turned her best Mother Stare on the being, uncaring on what it might cause for her. Ignoring their surprised amusement, she said, “I would like to read the books on them all.”

“Smart.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so, I wound up writing the majority of this part sleep deprived, but unlike most other things I’ve written on little sleep, I’m proud of this one? I created a character I’m fully ready to murder without meaning to create them. But it adds to the “fever dream” feel I wanna give this story, kind of. Let’s just say, if Rose is doing anything involving ‘signs’ for her daughter/the boys/Flynn to find, then it shouldn’t be too hard to believe there are ‘beings of higher power’ around her.
> 
> In no way is any of this meant to be leaning towards one religion over another.

Rose blinked. “Smart.”

The stranger gave her another one of their amused smiles. “Yes, not taking my word as truth. Isn’t that one of those things you humans do - find as many credible sources to learn from before forming an opinion?”

“...at times.”

They waved away her hesitant answer. “Oh, I know not all humans hold that much common sense, but it is something you guys do nonetheless! Alright, I will be a moment. Your daughter’s book is a bit of a way away from us and I don’t...know what happened with the boys’s books.”

Rose sighed in relief as the presence of the stranger faded the further they walked away from her. Then it caught in her throat for a brief moment, her mind finally catching onto what had been told to her. Julie’s life was always supposed to be _interesting_? That was… that was terrifying from a parent’s perspective, especially when adding on to the fact that the stranger had said no one - whoever _no one_ encompassed - knew what to do to make it interesting.

And then there were those three boys! What does any of what the stranger said mean? They were stuck somewhere, likely not even aware of how many years had passed them by. The fact that that had been all she’d gotten on them from the stranger doesn’t settle well with Rose - are they meant to stay there forever? Or are they a similar case as her daughter, where nobody could come to a consensus on what to do with them? Rose didn’t know what she would prefer to be the case here, because she had only known them for a brief moment, but as someone who felt the loss of their talent after hearing them that one night, she almost wished their situation was like Julie’s.

Because that meant they weren’t to stay wherever they are for eternity.

(The logistics on how that option worked was a bit beyond Rose, she knows, but hopefully the records - the books? - on them helped her understand it better. And she hoped that as she read, she would learn about why she was here in the… the Hall instead of having moved on.

Should she have asked about her book too?)

“Well,” the stranger said as they came back around one of the massive shelving units, face pinched as they stared down at the book they had in hand, “it would seem I would have to go hunting elsewhere for those books. One of the others probably took it out to try and figure out what to do with them. But! I did find your daughter’s book, so I’ll drop this off with you while I go asking around for the boys’s books.”

“Thank you.” Rose took Julie’s book when it was held out to her, fingers gently brushing over the image of vivid dahlias winding around a microphone like a sleeve on the cover. When the being’s footsteps didn’t move away from her, she looked back up, her brows pulling together as confusion crowded her thoughts briefly. “Yes?”

Another smile, soft and small in that uncertain way people tend to be when they’re unused to something, was aimed her way. The stranger shook their head. “Nothing. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them once I find those errant books.”

And then they were gone.

Rose blinked after them before returning to her daughter’s life’s story.

* * *

Time folded in on itself again as Rose lost herself to reading through all that Julie had been through before she’d died. As Julie’s mother, it was hard to get through the time after she had passed. But she had managed to get this far, it would be a disservice to Julie to stop now.

“Here ya’ go!”

Rose jerked away from the book she’d been curled around to meet the stare of a child. They were small, probably seven years old, with a grin wide enough to show several missing teeth and eyes that shone with such life Rose’s throat closed with emotion. The sort of emotion that was thick and heavy in the back of her throat, like honey or molasses. It wasn’t until those burning eyes darted down that Rose looked away and noticed several new books placed before her.

“Death said you needed ‘em. Sorry for takin’ them from the shelves,” the kid continued, a hand coming up to brush back tri-colored hair.

Rose took a moment to understand what the child was talking about. First to hit her was the fact this child had been reading the life stories of the deceased members of a forgotten band, and then it was the fact that this was a _child_. As she took in the image on the top book - it was a curling ribbon around a pair of drumsticks - it then clicked that the child had called the stranger _death_. Or… it’d be their name, right? Rose had been talking to Death, the _entity_ , had even _Mom Faced them_.

“Awe, don’t make that face! Death likes you,” the kid suddenly pipes up again. “It’s been a while since someone made them curious!”

“Wh-what?”

“Oh, did you not know?” The child tilted their head with a light giggle. “Makes sense, they haven’t looked like what you guys think of them in...in a really, _really_ long time.”

Rose felt her chest caving beneath the realization of who her previous conversation partner had been and barely managed to choke out, “And who would you be, sweetie?”

She winced at the full-body jerk she got in reaction to that and then sank into her seat at the following grin that the child aimed her way. It came off amusing but Rose couldn’t help but also think it was a touch deranged.

“I’m a bit of a mess,” the kid answered sweetly. “But Death and everyone else just calls me Nature!”

“Nature.”

“That’s me!”

Rose nodded slowly, trying to figure out what Nature could be connected to. “Why were you reading about these boys, Nature?”

The child hummed and hopped up into the seat _Death_ had occupied earlier. It was then that Rose noticed their outfit - it was made of grass, the stalks woven together with a professionalism Rose could only attribute to an industrial loom, blooms of flowers dotted about at random with a few clusters upon the shoulders and dancing around the cuffs of the top. The ends of their hair were wheat-yellow, while further up was a faded green that turned brown at the roots, nice and rich like fertile soil.

She got it then - this was the personification of nature, the one most people called _Mother_ Nature. Part of her felt broken at the sight of her planet’s personification being a _child_ before remembering that Earth itself wasn’t that old in the scheme of things. And another part of her felt sickeningly cold; they’d been steadily destroying a _child_.

“Miss?”

Rose blinked and shook her head, chasing away those thoughts before returning her focus on the very same child she’d been thinking about. The playfulness, the mania, was gone. Replaced by a seriousness that reminded Rose of the aftermath of natural disasters - that quiet, painful sort of seriousness, as if everything was holding its breath for the other shoe to drop.

“Sorry.”

Nature shook their head. “Don’t be, you’re a mother. I’ve met a few before now and they’ve reacted similarly. Maybe that’s why so many of you pass the tests over those without their parental instincts,” they said, voice wistful and soft. “But you did ask me a question.”

“Right.”

“I read about them because of how uncertain their futures are. Even though they’re dead, anything could happen with them, because even without an author writing out your stories, you humans continue nonetheless. Spontaneous bunch, your kind. It’s beautiful to watch happen in real-time.”

She supposed she understood that.

“Why do _you_ wanna read about them, huh?”

“I met them once. Heard them play the night they died, when they were practicing,” Rose gently explained. “It’s pitiful that the world never got to see them grow.”

“But instead got their legacy under another’s name,” Nature hummed with agreement.

Rose winced and looked down at Julie’s book still open in her lap. “It’s the one that I hated being unable to stop Bobby from doing.”

“I know.” Nature was grinning at her in a way that reminded Rose of Death - soft, amused, pleased as if Rose had passed another test with flying colors.

“Why are you letting me read these?”

“You passed the tests, _duh_!”

“By why test me at all?”

Nature giggled again, hands coming up to cover their mouth. They looked like a blend of different rock types, stark against the soft red of Nature’s face. “Because those who pass are usually the most interesting! You guys come up with brilliant solutions to problems the rest of us have had for _millennia_. Why wouldn’t we want to keep that opportunity open?”

The dead woman tilted her head and raised her brows. “Is that what you’re hoping I do for my daughter, help you figure out how to make her life interesting?”

“And these three too! You don’t have to do only one thing, ya’know?” Nature shot forward to separate the books that would give her the boys’s life stories. The drummer’s book was placed closer to Rose with a soft huff from the small child, showing off the next’s cover image of a bass guitar surrounded by water and sand. The bassist's book was placed just beside the last with less struggle on Nature’s part, their teetering body hiding the lead’s book until they settled back down in their seat. And Rose couldn’t help the sharp inhale, the image of an electric guitar with a cluster of bluebells at the head. Rose remembered how the blue lights had reflected in the boy’s dark eyes, helping his expressions come to life whenever had he smiled.

Like dahlia’s fit Julie, bluebells fit Luke. And Reggie and Alex’s own images fit them too, from what little she knew of them.

“You look like you’re aboutta cry.”

“Who decides on the images that go one someone’s cover?”

Nature’s nose wrinkled up adorably as they thought about Rose’s question. “I think it’d be Death and their twin,” the smaller being slowly said, eyebrows dancing upon their forehead before they shrugged. “But I don’t know. They never really let me know about that process since I don’t really have a say on peoples’ lives aside from, you know, causing things to happen that kill them.”

Rose watched the child wince before giving them the same smile she always gave her children whenever they felt upset over something. “You do what you have to, Nature, for whatever reason behind it all.”

“Even if they’re just technically temper tantrums?”

“I’d say,” the adult hummed out, brushing her hair away from her neck, “that you have plenty to be upset over. You work on a different level than humans do, so I can’t exactly hold you to the same morals as I would another human, no matter how much I want to. You existed long before I was born and have continued to exist long after I died, after all.”

Nature ducked their head and nodded. Rose could see the pleased flush upon their cheeks, the color turning them a vibrant vermillion instead of the faded red. They cleared their throat. “Do you have any ideas on what you’ll be doing for Julie yet?”

“No, but since I now know what you guys expect in return for allowing me to read these, I can begin properly thinking of something.”

The childish glee was back, brightening the whole room around the two of them as Nature grinned and bounced a few times in their seat. Rose was painfully reminded of her son in the action - he had calmed down some before Rose had died, but Carlos had always been an active child in a way Julie hadn’t been. She loved him for it, just like she had loved her daughter for her own quirks.

“Lemme know when you come up with something please? I wanna watch it happening as it happens!”

“Will do.”

“‘Kay! Thanks!” And then Nature was gone, quicker than Death had left Rose alone but louder as well.

Rose couldn’t stop the harried sigh that left her, her mind finally catching up on the fact that she was apparently surrounded by mythical, immortal beings that viewed humanity as forms of entertainment (if anything could be said about Nature’s interest in Reggie, Luke and Alex was anything to go by). It was a heavy realization. But the heaviest thing she’d found out about today was what everyone single one of them expected of her - for her to be puppetmaster to her own daughter and a set of dead teenagers.

“Well,” Rose said to herself as she returned to the pages detailing Julie’s struggles after Rose had passed, “time to get to thinking, huh?”

* * *

The next time she was interrupted, it had been at the beginning of Alex’s book and by Death. When they had cleared their throat to get her attention, Rose took a moment to settle the unease twisting her gut into knots and smiled at the entity standing uncertainly before her. They reminded her of old students, back before she met Ray - eager to talk to her but too shy to start any conversations without explicit approval from her.

“Heard you met Nature.”

Rose nodded, her smile twitching as she watched the tall being sit down stiffly. “I have, interesting little el crío.”

Death snorted and eased back into their seat, shoulders relaxing a touch as they considered her. “That’s...one way to describe them. One of the politest I’ve heard lately, too,” they hummed around a grin, pleased. “How goes the reading?”

“It’s…” Rose turned her stare to Julie’s book, set off to the side to indicate having been finished. “It’s odd, reading about them like this. But I’m getting through it, I guess.”

“Nature said that they had a feeling you’d be a little more different than those who’ve been given this chance before,” Death idly commented after Rose returned her gaze to Alex’s story. (It was an… interesting story. He’s the oldest of three, had been more of a parent to his younger sisters than their actual parents had been. And Rose was only just finishing the aftermath of his eleventh birthday.) The being continued when her eyes were back on them, “You seem invested.”

“And that means I’ll be doing something new?”

“It means you’re going to _care_ what your decisions do to them. Most others don’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stuggled with the ending of this part - if felt both too little and too much, but I decided that if my gut says the ending was a good point to stop, then I’m gonna trust it. That’s why it took so long to get this out there.
> 
> It’s also mostly about Alex in the beginning. It’s another part I struggled with, but while I was writing it instead of when I was done. Rose’s reaction may seem a little... out of character for how I’m writing her, but you guys should remember she’s in a situation that is far from normal, she’s allowed to have her moments and reading Alex’s book/story just pushed her into reacting and thinking about certain things.
> 
> Also, yes, a side plot decided to create itself as I wrote.

Alex’s story was a sad one, Rose decided as she pushed the book away, tears falling like molten drops of emotion. She wasn’t yet finished with it; there was a lot that Rose had learned that was _personal_ , and yet it made her feel closer to him. Made him human to her after having been nothing more than a faded ghost, a memory only half there.

Her heart broke for him. Well, it broke _more_ for him, taking the healed over cracks from when she’d heard about his death and reopening them, driving the damage deeper. He had been such a brilliant, kind young man. The friendship he had had with Bobby, Reggie and Luke - he had met Luke as a child and had followed Luke when the lead singer had dragged Reggie into their fold at the beginning of middle school with Bobby falling in within moments after Reggie joined the initial duo - was remarkable. Inspiring in the way people loved to read about, the found family trope that warmed Rose’s heart every time she came across it properly done. Because then, at the very least, Alex hadn’t been alone when his life started to turn.

Reaching her hands up to palm at her burning eyes, Rose let herself sob for the child Alex hadn’t been allowed to be for very long. Not with the indifference his parents had when it came to him, to his sisters, that had begun to turn into disdain when he and Luke met Reggie and Bobby. No child should have to experience a parent's disgust aimed their way; it was worse than if the Devlins had been disappointed in their son’s choices, because disgust showed him he wasn’t pleasant to be around. And if what Rose had finished reading said anything, Alex felt that way. He thought that his parents didn’t want him anywhere near them, because they hated him.

(It probably didn’t help the situation when the disgust started around the same time they had found out about Alex’s interest in men over women. Rose was half tempted to ask for his parents’ books, just to see if it _did_ have anything to do about it, but it wouldn’t truly help her in what she was expected to do. So Rose remembered their names - Margaret and James Devlin - and promised to herself that if they came up as things unfolded, she’d worry about them then.

For now, she just sobbed into her knees, palms creating starbursts behind her eyelids as they pressed hard into them.)

* * *

Rose took a moment after she’d finished shedding tears to just sit in silence. Much like other times, she lost track of time, feeling it flex around her like a living being as she thought about what could be done to help Alex. Because that was her job now, _apparently_.

His story wasn’t finished - or, at least, Rose wasn’t caught up to current events - but she needed a break from reading. So she considered what she knew of her daughter, what she knew of Alex and the few glimpses into Reggie’s and Luke’s lives, and tried to come up with a few possible options. Rose had easily decided that dealing with them separately would be too much, and all of them could benefit from being brought together. The question was _how to do that_.

Death’s presence wasn’t as surprising as it had been previously. Mostly because Rose had caught sight of them as they walked down an isle towards her, but still. She considered it a win to not jump when they came close enough to be heard.

“Are you alright?” The entity hesitated upon seeing her face (did they have trouble with their eyes? They were almost to the seat across from her before they noticed anything was off with her), light eyes wide.

“I’m just… _invested_ , is all.”

The being winced. “Ah, right. Current situation would say that wording is a bit… lacking in compassion, huh?”

Her face twitched, and even she was uncertain if it was because she wanted to smile or frown at Death. She sniffled sharply in place of verbally replying, watching the frown spread across the pleasant face - she probably hadn’t actively realized it between the two times she’d spoken to them previously, but their skin tone changed. When Rose had first met them, they were a brilliant white, like bones picked clean, and had been ashen-looking after she had met Nature. And now… Well, now Death looked a touch green, like poorly contained decay and chemicals - as the entity lost themself to their own thoughts.

Their expressions shifted, darkened, the longer Rose kept her silence. But there was no danger behind the look, just an ingrained loneliness that opened its jaws wider the longer she watched.

“I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened,” she found herself saying. Rose eased herself into smiling when blue eyes darted into focus upon her face, knowing it wouldn’t do much but be on her face right then. But something was better than nothing, yes? “Nature mentioned how humans can keep their stories going even without someone writing it out, which means none of you really has control over what we do. What we believe in, what we say, what we think - that’s all on us.”

“It upset you.”

Rose shook her head and smiled again, this time it slid onto her face like water on tile. But it felt bitter, brittle. “Humanity sucks sometimes,” she returned with a shrug.

“That is… true.” Death glanced over the two books Rose had yet to touch, curiosity clear in his eyes. “But those that… _suck_ tend to bring out the beauty in others as they come together to tear into them.”

“Very true.”

“What do you think…” Death started before shaking their head. “No, never mind. Do you have any questions for me?”

Rose took a moment to stare them down, taking in the solemn resignation etched deep in their posture before humming. “How… involved am I allowed to be when dealing with all of this,” she asked, one of her hands waving to reference the four books she’d asked to read however long ago.

The being sat up straight, as if the question hadn’t been part of whatever list they’d been thinking of. It pleased Rose to see how easy it was to surprise something older than herself by more than a hundred-fold. “As involved as you can be, depending on what you have in mind.”

“Okay.” Rose spent a few moments to just… be; she refused to let her thoughts get dragged anywhere important as she watched Death watch her. It was an interesting feeling, like stretching after sitting still for too long. Eventually, she brought herself to ask, “How does time work for the dead?”

“It technically doesn’t,” the being said with a soft laugh. Without a prompt from her, Death leaned forward and continued explaining, “Time really only holds onto the living, so when something dies, time just moves around them like water and oil. You could focus yourself and experience each second without missing something, or you could wind up skipping about like a broken record player without completely realizing it until it happens.”

“That’s what’s happening to the boys,” Rose recalled.

“Somewhat, the place they’re in also has a weird effect on time as well. They’d still be as they are now had they been alive and stuck in that room.”

Rose considered that, her face pinching together at the realization that something was off about that. “So, _someone_ wanted them there, no matter what.”

Death nodded. “That’s the most likely case.”

That didn’t… settle right. Death’s own expression - the uncomfortable hesitance that filled in the shadows on their face created by a wince - had Rose’s chest puttering, as if with a faltering heartbeat. Nothing about their situation made sense to the immortal across from her. And that was beyond _terrifying_. Because did that mean one of them was trying to do something without telling the others? And was that normal?

“Death!”

Both of them jumped at the excited shout, Rose letting out a slight laugh when the being sitting across from her let out a pained noise as Nature jumped up into their lap, a mess of multicolored curls and giggles. The woman watched as the two entities situated themselves comfortably with a calm smile. Despite how different they looked, with how Death calmly curled an arm around a wiggling Nature, and the excitement that the smaller being exuded at being around the older entity, the two of them were close. Which was a bit odd to see, since Nature was supposed to be full of life and Death was supposed to keep track of the dead, but it worked. Almost like how everyone says life and death worked in balance.

“Hiya, Miss Rose!” Nature grinned when they were settled, tucked into Death’s side and beneath an arm. “How’s the reading goin’?”

“She was crying when I first showed up,” Death mentioned softly, eyes focused away from Rose’s face. The human spirit blinked and felt a bit of warmth at the thought that the being had given her some time to gather herself before coming to sit with her. “She’s on Alex’s story currently.”

“He’s the one with a brain cell,” Nature acknowledged. They grinned at Rose when she breathed out a laugh. “I like the new way to use that.”

“Humans are very creative, yes.”

The child rolled their eyes, the smile turning stiff for a few moments before they wiggled some more and waved at Rose. “What about ideas! Have you come up with something?”

“A few basic ones,” Rose admitted. Her throat closed slightly as she remembered what had made her decide, wholeheartedly, to work on both issues together rather than tackling them like separate problems. “The most concrete part of them is that I… I want to help the boys the same way I want to help my daughter.”

Death tilted their head. Rose felt that pressure on her chest from when she’d first met them - where their stare seemed to reach deep and cover her so fully, searching and judging. Had she been living, Rose was pretty certain she’d be choking on the oppressive presence. It was Nature that pulled the two of them out of whatever had been happening, the noise loud and sharp and _amused_.

“In what way would that be?”

“Duh, silly! She’s wantin’ to use both of them to help one another,” Nature got out around a rather impressive cackle. The little immortal leaned forward, their grin wide and inhuman, “Why, is my question? Most would want to deal with whatever problems they put on their own plates in, in, what’s that-”

“-sections, Nature-”

“-in _sections_ rather than all at once! So why are you combining them?”

Rose was the one to tilt her head then, her thoughts racing at the implication that those who had been in the Hall before her had… what? They hadn’t thought trying to help someone through a situation would be to, essentially, bunch them up with others who could help them once the influence of the dead was gone?

“That’s such a half assed way of doing it though,” Rose found herself saying, anger bright in her words at the thought of anyone taking on a problem and leaving the chaos for their self-appointed charge to deal with once everything was said and done. “I want both those boys and my daughter to be able to continue forward without feeling lost or adrift without my influence keeping them together. For them to have no regrets about this point in their lives, or afterlives, in the boys’s case.”

Nature’s grin, once Rose fully clocked the emotions behind it, stopped her from continuing. It was an incredulous, happy sort of grin that edged on the manic side. Death, beside the small being, looked shocked, blinking their eyes quickly while a grin steadily overtook most of their face.

“Had people who passed your tests never...“ Rose didn’t know how to finish that question, her hands coming up to encompass their current situation.

“No,” Nature answered, hair bouncing about their face as they shook their head. “The tests don’t look for compassion, just force of will. Most of those who seem promising in that area tend to get overwhelmed by the cluster of doors just before the end of the Hall and wind up failing because of it.”

“But those tests were created to make sure no one would have…” Death tilted their head side to side as they attempted to figure out how to word their thoughts in a way Rose would understand, which she appreciated. “I guess mental breakdowns are still possible for the dead, so that’s what the tests in the Hall are for. Because the doors give off impressions of emotions that might be experienced when they read the books and solve problems we either couldn’t figure out or hadn’t even known were there.”

Nature nodded, the motion slow compared to other times. “And then the whole, for you, fake-studio bit was to see if people had the patience and understanding for being misled and confused. Because that’s obviously going to happen, even if it’s on accident most times.”

“We’re still learning how human minds work,” Death added, nodding in agreement.

Rose… understood that. All of it, really; they wanted fresh eyes and new opinions on problems they both did and didn’t know existed, but didn’t want to just give the power to manipulate lives to just anyone. And they wanted to make sure no one would get overwhelmed or break beneath the knowledge they would likely have to learn to do anything close to fixing something. When it comes down to it, compassionate people had two very massive extremes, especially when forced into a situation like this. (Even if _force_ isn’t the exact method used here. If Rose understood the process right, people who were possibilities had the choice to not want to deal with it and move on, which was what the other hall Rose had ignored could have led to. So none of this was _forced_ on any of them. Didn’t mean everyone understood that, which was why the two extremes of compassion could lead to some… not so great mental situations.

Especially if they got swept up in the emotional reactions of the doors leading to the end of the hall. They didn’t have to look inside them, just build upon the emotional toll again and again as they kept walking…

Rose shuddered at the thought to have gone through that as she walked and pulled away from that line of thinking.)

“Maybe you could find a way to find out,” Rose suggested, feeling unsettled at the thought that people who were determined but not _connected_ to whatever issues they took on could have done without anyone knowing.

“Maybe,” Death agreed.

Nature tilted their head. “We could ask Chrony or Sonny,” they murmured.

Rose blinked at how that seemed to pull an animated urge to talk out of Death before chuckling slightly to herself and pocketing those names for later. In case she met either of them while she worked. As she grew used to the fast pace of the conversation between the immortals, Rose slowly returned to reading, the saddened anger from earlier now a warm ball in her chest. At some point during her own conversation with the two, her emotions had solidified into something easier to handle - she was going to help Alex, and that had to be enough for her, since the past had already happened.

(The traitorous thought about what Death had said about time was forcefully shoved back. One thing at a time, _please_.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted over on my Tumblr (just-a-writer-here), but it has pictures as the page breaks. And those aren't here because I'm not good at adding them to AO3. So feel free to see which pictures I used (and check out the person who set them up! Credits are listed at the beginning of the Tumblr post).


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